<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>every chord progression makes my heart just race by sheriffandsteel</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727363">every chord progression makes my heart just race</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffandsteel/pseuds/sheriffandsteel'>sheriffandsteel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), F/M, M/M, Social Media, Stan is the band's manager because he is the keeper of the brain cells, Stenbrough, birdwatching is actually a love language, escapism at its finest, songwriter Bill is both a hipster and valid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:14:44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24727363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffandsteel/pseuds/sheriffandsteel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Deadlights hired Bill to help them cowrite their debut album the countdown clock was already ticking.<br/>Eleven weeks. Fourteen songs.<br/>Current song count? 0<br/>Current lyric count? 6<br/>Possibility of disaster? High.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>every chord progression makes my heart just race</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes I know this isn't how albums go through production. No I don't care.<br/>I don't use twitter so the formatting of the tweets is based purely off of how I've seen other fic writers structure it.<br/>I used <a href="http://www.nycaudubon.org/index.php">this</a> nifty website for the bird watching stuff.<br/>title of the fic is from Emily Kinney 'Rockstar' which doesn't fit this fic at all but I liked the line<br/>remember when I said I wouldn't name all my fics with song titles? Lol me neither.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>RICHIE TOZIER</b> </p><p><b> RICHIE (4:27 am): </b> </p><p>billiam  </p><p>billiam help a brother out </p><p>i know ur awake </p><p>i remember ur shitty sleep schedule </p><p>don't try to wait me out  </p><p>i never give up you fool </p><p>biillllllll </p><p><b> BILL (4:34 am): </b> jesus fuck Richie, what do you want? </p><p><b> RICHIE (4:35 am): </b> i need ur help </p><p><b> BILL (4:37 am): </b> Do I need to bail you out of jail again? </p><p><b> RICHIE (4:38) am: </b> not that kind of help billy boy </p><p> </p><p>Bill should have known better than to engage in conversation with Richie Tozier between the hours of midnight and six am, it was always when he came up with his worst most hairbrained schemes that never ceased to get them in heaps of trouble. But time and distance had made him soft, made him forget all of the late-night ‘study’ sessions, all the two am walks to find a diner that was still open. It made the memory of their drunken sunrise bike ride through Central Park seem funny and the pain of Bill’s broken wrist barely even fuzzed the equation any more. </p><p>No after the first text Bill should have powered off his phone and kept working but instead curiosity got the best of him and the sight of Richie’s name of his screen made a fond smile come to his lips.  </p><p>He should have just ignored all of it and shoved his phone away and let Richie text himself to sleep like Bill had done to get through finals week senior year. Four years of experience had shown him what he was getting into if he texted Richie back before Richie had caught a few hours' sleep or at least a huge cup (or two) of coffee. </p><p>And yet, like an idiot, Bill had gone and replied anyway.  </p><p> </p><p><b>insert ‘your mom’ joke here</b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i>Alexa play reunited by peaches &amp; herb #billiam+richie4evur </i> </p><p>(attached is a picture of Richie in a glaringly obnoxious Hawiian shirt hanging like a koala off of a laughing Bill on a busy street corner)  </p><p><b>Stream ‘small town hero’ EP now!</b> @eddiekasprak </p><p>@bigdicktozier <i>get your ass to the studio </i> </p><p><b>insert ‘your mom’ joke here </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i>god I love when you talk about my ass eds</i> </p><p>RT @eddiekaspbrak </p><p><b>writer for hire</b> @billdenbrough </p><p><i>Exciting new project coming soon!</i> </p><p> </p><p>“Fucking finally!” a voice snapped before Bill and Richie were even halfway through the door. Bill looked over in surprise to see a shorter man glaring at them with his hands on his hips. “You’re twenty minutes late!” </p><p>“You can’t rush a reunion hug Eds!” Richie pouted interrupting Bill’s apology and explanation that the subway had stopped.  </p><p>“Enough children. If you keep this up we won’t get any work done today.” A pretty redhead stood and walked across the room to shake Bill’s hand with a smile. “I’m Bev, this is Mike.” she nodded to a beautiful black man sitting in the corner and plucking on a bass guitar. He waved his hand at Bill with a grin that Bill returned easily. </p><p>“And this little spitfire is Eddie Spaghetti!” Richie cried catching Eddie around the shoulder and pulling him tight to his side. Bill raised his eyebrows at this action and Richie knew his expressions well enough to grin sheepishly at him. </p><p>“I’m Ben.” a soft-spoken voice from behind where Eddie and Richie were now wrestling with each other said. Bill looked around them to see a shy looking man sitting at a soundboard smiling at him. </p><p>“B-Bill.” Bill waved at him, he’d go over and shake his hand but then he’d have to step into the danger zone of being hit by Eddie or Richie’s flailing arms.  </p><p>Thankfully no one even blinked at his stutter as Bev finally managed to pry Eddie and Richie apart, sending them to sit in separate corners. Richie flopped down in a heap on the couch next to Bill, more on his lap than on the actual cushions.  </p><p>“Where’s Stan the Man?” Richie asked suddenly, looking around the small room before turning to face Eddie in exasperation. “You gave me shit for being late and he’s not even here yet?”  </p><p>“Please, as if Stan has ever not been punctual a day in his life.” Eddie scoffed with an eyeroll.  </p><p>“Actually, I was three days late for my birth.” a new voice joined the group and Bill turned to face the doorway into the rest of the house where the most beautiful man he’d ever seen was standing stiffly. Bill hoped the deep breath he drew upon the sight of him and his dark curly hair was hidden by Richie’s happy cry. </p><p>“That’s cause you know how to make an entrance!” Richie turned his megawatt grin over to Bill before nodding in Stan’s direction. “That’s Stan, he’s in charge of our braincells.” </p><p>“I thought he was our braincell?” Bev asked, shooting a wink at Stan who looked back at her unimpressed. </p><p>“My official title is band manager.” Stan told Bill, ignoring them both and offering his hand for Bill to shake. Bill took it gingerly, hoping that his hands weren’t as clammy as he feared. “I’m glad the band finally consented to hiring a professional.”  </p><p>“T-t-that's me.” Bill agreed, his stutter worsening as Stan continued to look at him with his dark eyes.  </p><p>“Your work on Audra Phillips latest record was adequate.” Stan continued, dropping his hand and stepping away. Bill had a distinctive impression he was being dismissed.  </p><p>Bill’s brow wrinkled as Stan turned away from him to sit on the chair beside Ben’s. “T-thanks?” Bill said, unsure if he was being complimented or insulted. </p><p>“Don’t worry.” Richie patted his arm comfortingly. “That’s high praise coming from Stanley.”  </p><p>“Can we get started please?” Eddie asked, sitting so far on the edge of his seat it was a wonder he didn’t fall off of it. </p><p>“Let’s get this shit show on the road!” Richie crowed, throwing an arm around Bill and another around Bev on his other side, pulling both of them against his chest and ignoring their protests.  </p><p> </p><p><b> Mike Hanlon </b> @magicalmike </p><p>@billdenbrough <i>can I see your Hogwarts diploma because you’re definitely a wizard?! </i> </p><p><b> Ben Hanscom </b> @justbennobutton </p><p>@magicalmike <i> He sure is! What house do you think @billdenbrough was in? </i> </p><p><b> Mike Hanlon </b> @magicalmike </p><p><i> Oh, that boy’s a Gryffindor if I ever saw one. </i> </p><p>RT @justbennobutton </p><p> </p><p>When Bill had accepted Richie’s offer (well plea would be more accurate) to help his latest band, the Deadlights, write their first full length album he hadn’t really expected it to take more than a week or two. The four members of the band were all songwriters themselves, they’d written the four songs on their EP ‘small town hero’ after all and two of those songs were in Billboards top 100. Richie had made it seem like they’d already had a good chunk of material prepared for their upcoming album and just needed a little bit of help finetuning some songs, maybe writing a hook or two. </p><p>Bill should have known better than to be surprised when that wasn’t the case. </p><p>The day Bill showed up at the tiny house that the label provided for bands to use as a writing and recording studio the band had a grand total of six lines written for the untitled album that had already been given a release date only eleven short weeks away. Considering that the label wanted at least fourteen songs on the album this meant they had to write a minimum of a song a week, a feat that would be easy enough for Bill but he was beginning to have doubts about his writing partners. </p><p>“T-this is all y-you have?” Bill asked in surprise looking up from the lines to take in the four sheepish faces of the band and Stan’s impassive one. Ben didn’t look concerned at all but then again, his career wasn’t on the line here. </p><p>“We’re so fucked.” Eddie moaned, dropping his head into his hands. </p><p>“That’s why I brought in Big Bill!” Richie clapped Bill on the back hard enough to make him wince. Richie rubbed his shoulders in apology. “Bill can unfuck us. He’s the best unfucker I know.” </p><p>“Beep beep Richie.” Bill muttered, pulling a pencil out of his bag and focusing on the lines scrawled on the notebook paper in front of him. Judging by the neatness of the handwriting Richie certainly hadn’t written it. He’d guess Mike based of what he’d seen of their personalities so far. </p><p>“You got him to shut up.” Eddie breathed out in wonder when Richie didn’t reply to Bill’s beep. Instead, he tucked his head onto Bill’s shoulder and watched as he scribbled a few lines down on paper. </p><p>“D-d-do you already have a m-melody in mind?” Bill asked, ignoring Eddie’s awe as the words began to take on a tune in his head. </p><p>Mike nodded and switched his base for a guitar, strumming out a melody that actually sounded pretty close to what Bill was thinking of.  </p><p>“How does this s-sound?” Bill asked before singing the few lines the band had written and the verse he’d added. By the time he hit the second line Bill felt some of the tension ease from his shoulders. His stutter always got worse around new people but he never stuttered when he sang. It was one of the main reasons why he’d gone into songwriting after his second novel bombed. </p><p>He finished his lines to look up at the room curiously, Richie was grinning at him like a maniac and Bev looked giddy on his other side. Eddie looked like he was about to pass out from relief. Mike was smiling at him and Ben looked pretty pleased.  </p><p>Bill flicked his gaze to Stan nervously. He’d been a songwriter for three years now and he’d worked with some pretty big names by this point. He’d grown a pretty thick skin when it came to rejection of his lyrics or people wrinkling their nose in distaste at his lines. Bill had thought he’d gotten to a point where he no longer felt nervous sharing his lyrics. As he looked across the room at Stan, he felt a surprising flutter of tension in his stomach and realized that maybe he wasn’t as immune to nerves as he thought. </p><p>Stan’s face was unreadable and Bill twirled his pencil around his fingers nervously as Stan peered at him for moment before he nodded once. He didn’t even acknowledge Bill, looking instead at the man beside him with another nearly imperceptible nod. “Good choice Richie.”   </p><p>Judging by the whoop that Richie let out Bill was going to assume that was pretty high praise too. </p><p> </p><p><b>Stream ‘small town hero’ EP now!</b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> Hiring </i> @billdenbrough <i> is the only good idea</i> @bigdicktozier <i>has ever had. I guess everyone gets lucky once in a while. </i> </p><p><b>insert ‘your mom’ joke here</b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i> when can I get lucky with you? </i> </p><p>RT @eddiekasprak </p><p> </p><p>They wrote just the one song that first day but considering that meant the album was one step closer to being done than when Bill had arrived, he decided he was going to count it as a victory even though he’d been hoping to at least start on another song.  </p><p>He let Richie drag him out for dinner (which was mostly drinks) after they left the house and Bill had to practically bite his tongue in half to keep himself from asking questions about the band’s mysterious manager. </p><p>Alcohol always had a way of loosening his tongue though so by the time they were on their third drink at their second place Bill couldn’t keep his curiosity down anymore. </p><p>“W-what’s S-stan's deal?” Bill asked, spinning his beer bottle lightly between his hands and hoping that his tone was nonchalant.  </p><p>Thankfully Richie had never been the best at picking up on things so he responded as if Bill’s question was totally normal. “Stan’s the fucking <i>best</i>. That’s why he’s Stan the Man.”  </p><p>That wasn’t exactly enlightening to Bill but he didn’t want to outright ask if Stan was single or if he’d be wasting his time hitting on him because Richie would totally blab about it. Instead Bill took a totally casual sip of beer before asking, “How’d y-you meet?” </p><p>“The label assigned us a manager with our contract. I figured we’d get some fat guy in a business suit but instead we won the jackpot and got Stanley. He acts like a stickler but deep down he’s cool.” Richie downed the rest of his beer and jumped unsteadily to his feet, reaching down to pull Bill to the bar after him. “Shot time!” </p><p> </p><p><b>RICHIE TOZIER</b> </p><p><b>RICHIE (8:02 am): </b>never let me drink again </p><p>im dying </p><p>dyyyiinnnnngggggg </p><p>billiam? </p><p>billy boy? </p><p>bill are you dead too? </p><p><b>BILL (8:13 am):</b> yeah </p><p><b>RICHIE (8:15 am): </b>that’s good </p><p>if we’re both already dead that means eds can’t kill us </p><p> </p><p>In the end it wasn’t Eddie who was most annoyed with them for showing up at the house hungover the next day, although he did shoot daggers at Richie every time he was in the room. Mike and Ben didn’t seem the least bit concerned about it and Bev was only annoyed that she hadn’t been invited out drinking. Stan however fixed them both with such a look of disappointment that Bill felt himself wilt under the weight of it.  </p><p>He found himself wanting to apologize and promise that it would never <i>ever</i> happen again but his stutter was making all of his words get stuck in his throat. Or maybe that was because of the small wrinkle between Stan’s eyebrows as he looked at them reproachfully. </p><p>“Relax Stanny baby!” Richie sighed as he flopped down onto the couch and rested his feet in Mike's lap and his head in Eddie’s. Eddie squawked and tried to shove Richie off him which only made Richie turn and wrap his arms around his waist, burrowing his face into his stomach. “Lots of great songs were written under the influence!” Richie called; his voice muffled by Eddie’s shirt.  </p><p>“Name one.” Stan glowered; his arms crossed over his chest. Bill rubbed at his temples where he could feel his pulse throbbing wondering if he should step in and help Richie or not.  </p><p>“Gladly.” Richie popped up into sitting, his face suddenly blanching as he sprung up to his feet. “Right after I throw up a bottle of tequila.”  </p><p> </p><p><b>insert ‘your mom’ joke here </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i> tequila’s a great lover but fuck if she’s not a bitch the next morning </i> </p><p><b> Stream ‘small town hero’ EP now! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> You did this to yourself. Hangover=karma </i> </p><p>RT @bigdicktozier  </p><p><b> coolest member of the Deadlights </b> @badassbev </p><p><i> If you’d invited me, I would have reminded you to hydrate and this wouldn’t have happened. </i> </p><p>RT @bigdicktozier  </p><p><b> Stream ‘small town hero’ EP now! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> What Bev is trying to say here is: karma’s a bitch Rich. </i> </p><p>RT @badassbev  </p><p><b> insert ‘your mom’ joke here </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p>@magicalmike <i> eds and bev are picking on me 🙁 </i> </p><p><b> Mike Hanlon </b> @magicalmike </p><p>@bigdicktozier <i> please don’t tweet at me when we’re in the same room </i> </p><p><b> Stanley Uris </b> @stanuris </p><p>@bigdicktozier @magicalmike @eddiekasprak @badassbev <i> Time to get back to work children. </i> </p><p> </p><p>Songwriting with a hungover sucked for the first few hours but then Stan took pity on them (or he got sick of listening to Richie complain about how he was dying of hunger) and he ordered them a copious amount of pizza. Maybe it was the grease or maybe it was having something in his stomach other than more tequila than he’d ever drunken in his life but Bill felt better after having eaten. </p><p>They didn’t come up with any great songs that day, or really even very great verses, to which Stan gave them a pointed look over. Bill might have only known the man for two days but even he could read the ‘I told you so’ on his face. </p><p>“W-won’t h-h-happen again.” Bill promised Stan as he made to follow Richie out the door with strict instructions from Eddie for both of them to go straight home. As if Bill had any plans to do anything but crash on his bed for the foreseeable future.  </p><p>“It better not.” Stan said sternly, giving Bill another one of those disappointed looks. Seriously, his expression could give Bill’s mom’s disappointed eyes a run for their money. “We’re paying you to write songs not get our guitarist drunk.”  </p><p>Bill flinched at the harsh (but fair he reminded himself sternly) words. “S-s-s-s.” Bill frowned and tried to fight the blush that he could feel creeping up his neck as his apology got stuck in his throat. He flushed even redder at the realization that he was stuck like a broken record in front of Stan, adorable curly haired Stan, who probably already thought he was a drunk and a disappointment.  </p><p>A hand on his arm calmed Bill down enough for him to stop stuttering over the letter ‘S’ and he took a deep breath and found he was unable to look up from his shoes. </p><p>“I forgive you.” Stan said, his voice lacking the annoyed tinge it had held all day and back to the near expressionless tone he’d had yesterday. Bill looked up at him hesitantly, surprised to see the disappointed look gone from Stan’s face. He squeezed Bill’s arm once and Bill’s heart stuttered at the feeling of his hand on his bare skin. “Let’s not find out how many times I’m willing to do that.”  </p><p> </p><p><b>writer for hire </b> @billdenbrough </p><p><i>Some unsolicited advice: never try to out drink</i> @bigdicktozier. <i> It is a game you will both loose. Badly. </i> </p><p><b>call me Georgie and die </b> @denofgeorge </p><p><i> This advice seems familiar. Pretty sure that's what you said after central park too. </i> </p><p>RT @billdenbrough </p><p><b>writer for hire </b> @billdenbrough </p><p><i> Don't @ me like that GEORGIE. </i> </p><p>RT @denofgeorge </p><p><b>call me Georgie and die </b> @denofgeorge </p><p><i> Wanna know what a dead man walking looks like? Go follow </i> @billdenbrough </p><p><b>Stream ‘small town hero’ EP now! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> Please don’t kill him until after we finish the album </i> </p><p>RT @denofgeorge </p><p> </p><p>The first week of writing with the Deadlights they got three songs written and even managed to get one of them fully recorded which made Ben happy as he finally had something to do other than fetch them snacks. Stan repeatedly reminded him that wasn’t his job but Ben liked seeing everyone happy so he was constantly making coffees and hunting down something Eddie could eat and not die from his severe food allergies.  </p><p>“We need a single and soon.” Stan reminded the group as Ben passed around sodas and teas. Bill took his mug of black tea off the tray with a ‘thanks’ before taking a big sip and grimacing when it burned his tongue.  </p><p>“Can’t we use ‘poison oak’ as a single?” Beverly asked, smiling up at Ben as he passed her a soda. He blushed and hurried to put his tray back in the kitchen. Bill watched in amusement as Beverly’s eyes tracked him across the room. </p><p>“It’s not catchy enough.” Eddie insisted not for the first (or likely the last) time. He was laying on the floor in the center of the room for reasons Bill did not understand but at least now he knew why Eddie had been vacuuming this morning and made them all leave their shoes at the door.  </p><p>“’Lanterns’ is pretty good.” Mike suggested, holding up his hands in a calm down gesture when Eddie shot up to glare at him. </p><p>“<i>Pretty good?</i> You want the first single of our debut album to be <i>pretty good</i>?” a flush was starting up Eddie’s neck and his voice was steadily rising in pitch as Richie came in the front door, the smell of smoke thick on his clothes. </p><p>He took one look at Eddie in the beginning throes of a full melt down and flopped on the floor beside him, casting a look around at the others with a grin. “Okay who broke Eddie? Did someone give him soy again?” </p><p>“Shut up Richie!” Eddie cried, tugging at his hair with a look of panic. “We’re never gonna get this album done in time.” </p><p>“Why did they give it a release date before it was written?” Ben asked Stan curiously as he walked back into the room. </p><p>“Cause the label loves to fuck with us.” Richie grinned from the floor as he rubbed Eddie’s back in comfort as he mumbled fervently to himself. </p><p>“Because the label is trying to build on the momentum of your EP.” Stan reminded them for what was not the first time judging by the band’s eyerolls. This had been a common argument for a while it seemed. Bill honestly didn’t understand why the band had waited so long to call in for help. </p><p>“I h-have a s-song that might work.” Bill interjected, fidgeting for a moment as all six of their gazes swung to him. “I k-know you want to be the writers of all your s-songs but-” </p><p>“Let’s hear it.” Stan said before anyone in the band could say anything. He held up a hand to ward off their protests. “You had your shot to write all your own songs. Give this a chance.”  </p><p>Eddie looked like he didn’t have enough breath yet to argue but Bill could tell by the look on his face that he wanted too. Bev and Mike exchanged a loaded look before Mike nodded slowly to which Bev gave a small shrug in response. Richie didn’t say anything for a moment before he stood to grab his guitar and pass it to Bill. </p><p>He looked down at Bill seriously as Bill settled the guitar in his lap.  </p><p>“Save us Big Bill.”  </p><p>Bill flushed at both the nickname and the pressure of the request. He closed his eyes as the nerves of singing one of his own songs in front of people (in front of Stan mostly) twisted his stomach. Bill let himself keep his eyes closed for the entire song as he played it from memory. He didn’t want to be a singer so it wasn’t like he actually needed to get used to people staring at him while he sung.  </p><p> </p><p><b> ‘Small town hero’ EP out now! </b> @thedeadlightsmusic </p><p><i>‘paper boats’ music video out this friday!!!!!!!!!!! ITS GONNA BE LIT! </i> </p><p><b> marry me richie </b> @seeewartrashh </p><p><i>Fucking sweet! WHAT’S THE NEW ALBUM CALLED? </i> </p><p> RT @thedeadlightsmusic </p><p><b> ‘Small town hero’ EP out now! </b> @thedeadlightsmusic </p><p><i>you’ll know when we know. also, please use your inside voice. </i> @eddiekasprak <i>has sensitive ears </i> </p><p>RT @seeewartrashh </p><p><b>Stream ‘small town hero’ EP now! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i>Who gave </i> @bigdicktozier <i>the deadlights new password???? </i> </p><p> </p><p>The band liked most of the song Bill sang them but then ended up scrapping the last verse and changing quite a bit of the chorus. Bill was happy enough to let them, he wouldn’t have offered to sing them the song if he wasn’t willing to have it changed. He’d anticipated they would make adjustments if only for the fact that they would then get cowriter credit.  </p><p>Once the lyrics were settled on and the band was working on the music Bill excused himself to go sit outside on the back porch to get some fresh air, well outside air as air was never really fresh in the middle of New York City.  </p><p>“Thank you for that.” Stan’s quiet voice caused Bill to jump and he looked over his shoulder startled to find Stan standing in the doorway behind him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before moving around Bill down the steps so that they could look at each other without Bill twisting his neck around. Bill considered offering him a seat next to him on the steps but considering he’d never seen so much as one curly hair out of place on Stan’s head he doubted that Stan would consent to sitting on the stoop and risk his pants getting dirty.  </p><p>“S-songs are meant for s-s-sharing.” Bill curled his hands around his knees and tried to act nonchalant and not like his heart was pounding like Bev’s bass drum as he realized he was alone with Stan for the first time ever.  </p><p>“I appreciate all the work you’ve been doing.” Stan continued with a nod, his face as calm and unreadable as ever even as Bill flushed at the compliment. “I know they can be a tough group to work with sometimes.” </p><p>“Most c-creative p-people are.” Bill admitted with a wry grin that widened when Stan nodded in agreement. </p><p>The sound of trilling from above them caught their attention and Bill looked up curiously to see a small red chested bird sitting on the roof of the porch, fluttering its wings for a moment before taking off again. </p><p>“A Rose-breasted Grosbeak.” Stan announced causing Bill to look over at him curiously. His eyes were still tracking the bird’s flight, a small smile on his lips. Bill felt his own eyes light up in wonder as Stan's whole face looked changed, more animated and happier than Bill had ever seen him. “It must have flown over from Prospect Park.”  </p><p>“I j-just knew it wasn’t a p-pigeon.” Bill joked, his stomach lurching as a small spot of pink appeared on Stan’s cheeks and the smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Do y-you like b-birds?” he asked lamely, as if someone who didn’t like birds could have easily spotted the rose-breasted gro-thing on sight. He was just trying to find something to say to make Stan smile again.  </p><p>“Yes.” Stan said shortly before stepping around Bill and heading back inside before Bill could even come up with something to say in response. </p><p> </p><p><b> GEORGIE DENBROUGH </b> </p><p><b> BILL (8:52 PM): </b> What do you know about birdwatching?  </p><p><b> GEORGIE (9:05 PM): </b> decidedly less than Google  </p><p><b> BILL (9:13 PM): </b> You’ll capitalize Google but you won’t use punctuation?  </p><p><b> GEORGIE (9:17 PM): </b> why are you wasting time judging my texting choices when you could be Googling birds or whatever </p><p><b> BILL (9:20 PM): </b> You are no help.  </p><p>I'm never asking you for advice again. </p><p><b> GEORGIE (9:28 PM): </b> promise? </p><p>see i use punctuation when it MATTERS </p><p>also change my name in your phone I know it still says georgie you fucker  </p><p> </p><p>Google, of course, did have a wealth of information of birdwatching. Bill read so much about the various parks to bird watch in New York City (he’d had no idea there were any other birds but pigeons and lost seagulls in the city) that his eyes started to feel like they were bleeding from looking at his laptop screen all night.  </p><p>The band was recording ‘paper boats’ that day and filming their music video for the next two so Bill found himself with a rare stretch of freedom. He considered hopping on the train and going to see George at U of Maine but the last time he’d shown up unannounced he’d gotten dragged to six college parties in two days and Bill knew his liver (or his brain) couldn’t handle that again.  </p><p>Instead he used his three days off to work on the latest novel he’d been working on. It wasn’t going very great because every time he opened a word document all he could think about were the negative reviews <i>the Attic Room</i> had gotten and he snapped his laptop shut in distaste. Due to this Bill spent most of his days off catching up on Netflix and going for long walks in Prospect Park looking for what he now knew were called Rose-breasted Grosbeaks.  </p><p>“I threw Eddie in a pool!” Richie announced when Bill arrived at the house Monday morning.  </p><p>Bill raised his eyebrows at the greeting before looking over at Eddie who huffed and curled up tighter into his bulky turtleneck sweater.  </p><p>“Yeah and it wasn’t in the script dick!” Eddie snapped and then Richie and him were sniping at each other before Bill was even in the doorway. </p><p>“Filming w-went well?” Bill asked Bev as she sat painting Mike’s nails orange, both of them ignoring the actions of their band mates. </p><p>“It was rushed.” Bev shrugged, wiping some stray polish off the side of Mike’s finger. “But I think it’ll be okay.” </p><p>Bill nodded at Ben where he sat mooning over Bev and poked his head into the kitchen, smiling when he found Stan in there hanging up his phone. </p><p>“H-how’d the s-song go?” Bill asked curiously, pulling on the edge of his sleeve nervously. </p><p>“The label thinks it’ll be a top ten hit.” Stan pocketed his phone and made no expression whether he thought this was a good thing or not. Bill felt a bit of a surge of pride at this. He’d spent three days wallowing in self-pity about <i>the Attic Room</i> so it was nice to hear some of his writing praised. </p><p>“Yesterday I s-saw three rose-breasted g-g-grosbeak.” Bill had practiced that sentence in the mirror for twenty minutes last night. He flushed with annoyance that he didn’t manage to make the bird’s name out without stuttering but Stan didn’t even seem to notice. </p><p>“Where?” he asked, a faint hint of curiosity in his voice. Bill flushed at the thought of having to say two p words back to back (a certain disaster as he well knew) but thankfully Stan was one step ahead of him. “Prospect park?” he asked casually like he hadn’t just throw Bill a lifeline.  </p><p>Bill nodded gratefully, about to tell him that he’d also saw birds that his hours on Google had led him to identify as a brown thrasher and a wood duck, but Ben came into the room before he could say anything else and for some reason Bill wanted to keep the birds between Stan and himself.  </p><p> </p><p><b> ‘paper boats’ available now! </b> @thedeadlightsmusic </p><p><i>Check out the video for our newest single, ‘paper boats’! </i> (Link) </p><p><b> Cause of death: eddie kaspbrak’s booty shorts </b> @reddieornot </p><p><i> K that shot of reddie in the pool??? TRY to tell me their not in love. i DARE you! </i> </p><p><b> Deadlights more like DADlights </b> @bevforpres </p><p><i> Idk richie’s been tagging that bill guy alot lately  </i> </p><p>RT @reddieornot </p><p><b> Cause of death eddie kaspbrak’s booty shorts </b> @reddieornot </p><p><i> Just cause he’s their new songwriter. he's no threat for reddie's love </i> </p><p>RT @bevforpres </p><p> </p><p>‘Paper boats’ did make it into the top ten like the label had anticipated and that success made it easy for them to write another three songs and record them over the following two weeks.  </p><p>By that point they had seven songs written and recorded and a single raising higher in the charts every week. They still a month and a half to write the other half of the album and everyone was feeling slightly easier about the whole thing which is why it came to such a shock to everyone when their sixth week writing together drew to an end and they didn’t have a single useable song to show from it.  </p><p>“We’re fucked.” Eddie wheezed, pacing back and forth across the room so quickly Bill kept expecting the friction of his socks on the carpet to start a fire. “We’re never gonna finish the album or worse we’ll record <i>garbage</i> and-” </p><p>“You do have a song called ‘sewer trash’.” Ben offered helpfully, flinching as Eddie whirled around to glare at him in outrage. </p><p>“Not helping!” he snapped, making Ben hunch down into his hoodie.  </p><p>Bev glared at Eddie and placed an arm around Ben’s shoulder in comfort. Bill thought he looked better already.  </p><p>“Calm down Eds.” Richie strummed his guitar from where he sat on the floor against the couch, letting his head loll back to rest against Bill’s knee. “We’ve still got plenty of time.” </p><p>“No, we don’t!” Eddie cried, flinging his arms up as Stan reminded them patiently, “You have five weeks.”  </p><p>“You were supposed to fix this!” Eddie cried turning to point an accusatory finger at Bill. </p><p>Bill wasn’t offended, he’d heard far worse fits from artists far meaner than Eddie but it seemed like he was the only one in the room not personally affronted by the words as everyone spoke to Bill’s defense. All of the others’ words blurred into a mumble in Bill’s ears as he looked at Stan in surprise, the soft “Hey.” he’d said in warning meaning more to Bill than Richie’s loud rant.  </p><p> </p><p><b> Audra Phillips </b> @audra </p><p><i> Loving </i> @thedeadlightsmusic <i> paper boats! </i> @billdenbrough <i> magic songwriting does it again! </i> </p><p><b> Mike Hanlon </b> @magicalmike </p><p><i> He’s the best! </i> </p><p>RT @audra </p><p><b> Audra Phillips </b> @audra </p><p>@magicalmike <i> How’d you even get him to work with you? I thought he was focusing on his novel? </i> </p><p><b> Mike Hanlon </b> @magicalmike </p><p>@bigdicktozier <i> talked him into it. They're old friends. </i> </p><p>RT @audra </p><p><b> insert ‘eddie’s mom’ joke here </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i> Correction, we used to sleep together. </i> </p><p>RT @magicalmike </p><p><b> writer for hire </b> @billdenbrough </p><p> @bigdicktozier <i> translation: we were roommates </i> </p><p><b> Paper boats out now! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> Someone get </i> @billdenbrough <i> a medal for living with </i> @bigdicktozier <i> and not murdering him </i> </p><p><b> insert ‘eddie’s mom’ joke here</b> @bigdicktozier </p><p>@eddiekasprak <i> don't be jealous baby u know my heart belongs to u </i> </p><p><b> Paper boats out now! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> I'd like the receipt </i> </p><p>RT @bigdicktozier </p><p><b> wisest member of the Deadlights </b> @badassbev </p><p>@bigdicktozier @billdenbrough <i> Oh my god they were roommates! </i> </p><p> </p><p>Once he’d calmed down Eddie had all but fallen over himself apologizing to Bill for his outburst. He seemed to be more upset by his words than Bill was which surprised Bill almost as much as the fact that he was apologizing. In his experience the only artist who’d apologized at him for tempers during the creative process was Audra which is why she was the only artist he’d worked with more than once.  </p><p>After Eddie’s outburst they were able to get another song done bringing their grand total up to eight with six more to go and less than five weeks to write them. Bill could tell that they were all feeling the pressure now and he tried to remind himself that some of the best songs were written under pressure. </p><p>He found himself at the house more often than he was in his own apartment and not for the first time Bill found himself grateful that he didn’t have any pets. The few times he did leave the house he found himself too wired to head back home right away. After a particularly grueling session that Eddie refused to let anyone leave or sleep until they finished the song (nine down four weeks to go) Bill found himself walking through Prospect Park yet again, the skies gray with early dawn and the sounds of birds waking up around him. </p><p>Bill couldn’t honestly believe how many birds were in the city. He’d truly never paid any attention to them before Stan had pointed them out. Now he saw them everywhere he went. He settled onto a bench by the lake and fought back a yawn as he snapped a picture of a wren flying down to skim across the top of the water.  </p><p> </p><p><b> Professional(ha!) writer/amateur birdwatcher </b> @billdenbrough </p><p><i> Too tired to make distinction, help me internet is this a House Wren or a Carolina Wren? </i> </p><p><b> Stanley Uris </b> @stanuris </p><p><i> It’s a Carolina Wren. Good find for this season. </i> </p><p>RT @billdenbrough </p><p> </p><p>Bill sat bolt upright, all feelings of tiredness sapping from his body as he stared down at the twitter notification on his phone. He jumped out of his seat and spun in a happy circle, startling some nearby birds and causing an older couple walking hand in hand to smile at him.  </p><p>@stanuris <i>is now following you</i> </p><p> </p><p>Three weeks to go, still only nine songs written. Everyone was feeling the pressure now, even Ben, who bustled around them picking up their empty coffee cups and shoving snacks in every free hand he saw no matter how many times they all reminded him it wasn’t his job.  </p><p>All of them had all but moved into the house by this point. They were really only going home long enough to shower and change their clothes so no one even batted an eye when one by one they all brought a bag of clothes with them to the house and just stopped leaving it.  </p><p>Their creativity worked differently when they were all together all the time. Bill didn’t know if it could necessarily be called better but it was certainly easy to write a song when all he had to do to get a hold of one of his writing partners was kick their chair until they woke up (or in Richie’s case spray him with a squirt bottle).  </p><p>They had just finished writing song number ten, ironically titled ‘lucky number seven’ and bringing the album into double digits when Stan dropped a bomb none of them had even been considering into their laps. </p><p>“We still need to do a photoshoot for the album cover.” he announced, scooping up a bite of lo mien expertly with his chopsticks. Bill kept trying to mimic the way he was holding them but he still ended up dropping half his food every time.  </p><p>Bill continued to eat as the four members of the band began to lowkey freak out (or high key in Eddie’s case). They were still trying to absorb the reminder of yet another thing not done for the album (eighteen days until release day!) when Stan casually grabbed an eggroll from the plate on the table and threw another bomb. </p><p>“The album needs a title too.” </p><p> </p><p><b> Be a musician they said, it’ll be fun they said </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> Dear anyone considering becoming a professional musician: DON’T FUCKING DO IT! ITS NOT WORTH IT! </i> </p><p><b> marry me richie </b> @seeewartrashh </p><p><i> Oh no!!!! WHAT’S HAPPENING??? </i> </p><p>RT @eddiekasprak </p><p><b> insert ‘we’re all gonna die’ joke here </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i> i thought i told you inside voices </i> </p><p>RT @seeewartrashh </p><p><b> Fucked and not the good kind </b> @badassbev </p><p>@bigdicktozier @eddiekasprak <i> stop flirting and help us </i> </p><p><b> Mike Hanlon (no Richie I will not change it) </b> @magicalmike </p><p> @justbennobutton <i> thanks for being the only sane person in the house buddy! </i> </p><p><b> RIP to my sleep schedule </b> @billdenbrough </p><p><i> I take offense to that </i> </p><p>RT @magicalmike </p><p><b> Stanley Uris </b> @stanuris </p><p><i> I will confiscate your phones. Do not test me. </i> </p><p> </p><p>Bill woke with a start, looking around the room disoriented until he remembered where he was and let himself relax back in the chair he’d fallen asleep in. He heard a soft sound from the kitchen and Bill peeked his eyes open slowly, looking around the room to see who was already awake. Ben and Bev were still curled up asleep on the couch looking like the cutest thing that Bill had ever seen. It was only the thought of it being creepy that stopped him from taking a photo of the two of them cuddled around each other. Mike was stretched out on the other couch, his feet hanging off one side as it was too short for him. Eddie and Richie had called dibs on the house’s one real bedroom and bed a few days ago and no one was desperate enough to try to want to sleep in the bed now. Neither of them were early risers so that left Stan and sure enough when Bill looked across the room to the chair he’d been in when Bill had fallen asleep it was now empty. </p><p>Yawning Bill shoved the blanket off his lap, shivering as he made his way into the kitchen. He pulled the navy-blue cardigan that was certainly not his but was so warm and soft he kept wearing it, closer around him as he lingered in the doorway and watched Stan organizing to go cups of coffee on the counter. Bill yawned again at the sight of the coffee, if Stan had gone out for it that meant he was about to wake the house up anyway.  </p><p>“One of t-those f-for me?” Bill asked as he stepped into the kitchen, the tiles cold on his bare feet.  </p><p>Stan offered him a cup without looking at him, still pulling the others from their carriers. </p><p>“Thanks.” Bill sighed, taking the blessed drink from his hands. It had just a splash of milk in it the way Bill liked (he wanted to be able to order plain black coffee so bad but he just couldn’t stand how bitter it was). Bill leaned back against the counter and watched Stan, too tired to even care if he got caught staring at him. He noticed with some surprise that Stan was in a new outfit, his light blue button up pressed and crisp and tucked into his jeans. Bill snuck a peek at his watch and barely bit back a groan as he realized that he hadn’t even been asleep for two hours.  </p><p>He had no idea how Stan always managed to look so put together, even on such little sleep. Bill felt even scruffier than usual next to him and he contented himself with the fact that at least his pilfered cardigan was clean and unwrinkled. Although now that Bill was thinking about it, he was pretty sure this was actually Stan’s cardigan. That fact only made him want to burrow tighter into it.   </p><p>“How does one go from horror novel author to songwriter?” Stan’s soft voice pulled Bill’s from his thoughts and he blushed as he realized Stan had turned to face him and had in fact caught him staring. </p><p>Hoping that he would assume Bill had just been staring into space while trying to wake Bill took a quick sip of coffee to buy himself some time before he sighed and admitted, “Y-your last novel s-sucks.”  </p><p>Stan rose his eyebrows at that before picking up his own cup from the counter. Bill could see the string of a teabag hanging out of the side and he recognized it as an herbal caffeine free one. Stan managed to look that good on nearly no sleep and no caffeine? He better have done seven shots of espresso while he was at the café or nothing in Bill’s life was fair.  </p><p>“<i>The Attic Room</i> didn’t suck.” Stan said delicately, twirling the string of his tea around his finger.  </p><p>Bill rose his eyebrows as he looked at him, “Did y-you read it?” he asked, unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not. Stan nodded slowly and Bill’s shoulders sagged in defeat. He curled his free hand into the sleeve of the cardigan, running the pads of his fingers over the soft material. “Then you k-know it s-s-sucks.”  </p><p>“The ending left something to be desired.” Stan admitted with pursed lips that Bill now knew meant he was trying to fight a smile.  </p><p>Bill let out a startled laugh at his honestly before shaking his head, more at himself than Stan’s words. “It d-didn't s-s-seem that bad when I wrote it.”  </p><p>“How did you go from horror to music?” Stan asked curiously, thankfully leaving the topic of Bill’s public humiliation.  </p><p>“My m-mother was a classical p-pianist.” Bill explained taking another sip of coffee to try to get his lingering blush to go away. “Music’s always b-been a big p-part of my life.” Music was the first (and so far, only) great love of Bill's life. “Plus, I don’t s-s-stutter when I s-sing.” Bill admitted, his voice dropping as he admitted this. He knew it was obvious, anyone who had heard him talk and sing could notice the difference. Still he didn’t like drawing attention to it because half the time people would ask why he didn’t just try to say everything he said to a tune like he was singing. Bill had been sixteen when he decided he was done explaining that it didn’t work like that and that he shouldn’t have to do it anyway. </p><p>“You have a lovely voice.” Stan said softly, causing Bill’s eyes to flicker up from the floor to meet his in surprise. He didn’t tack on ‘when you sing’ like most people did and Bill felt his heart lift at that knowledge.  </p><p>“What are you going to work on after this album?” Stan asked curiously.  </p><p>Bill shrugged, he had a novel he should work on but Audra was hinting at collaborating for another album and a folk singer Patty Blum he liked had reached out to him about hosting a songwriter session. He had options he just didn’t know yet which one he was going to take.  </p><p>In the end he was spared of having to answer by Richie bumbling into the kitchen, knocking into both Bill and the doorframe before latching onto the cup Stan placed into his hand and sitting down in the middle of the floor to drink it. Bill swallowed hard and suddenly felt wide awake as he realized Stan hadn’t broken eye contact with him once during the whole exchange.  </p><p> </p><p><b> THE LOSERS </b> </p><p><b> BEVERLY (2:19 am): </b> who let richie name the group chat? </p><p><b> MIKE (2:20 am): </b> why do we need a group chat when we’re all in the same house? </p><p><b> RICHIE (2:22 am): </b> u guys are in the other room </p><p>what do u want me to do </p><p>walk over there </p><p><b> BEN (2:27 am): </b> do you want to hear my new arrangement for internal compass? </p><p><b> EDDIE (2:28 am): </b> No work in the group chat! </p><p><b> BEN (2:29 am): </b> I thought that was why you made it? </p><p><b> BILL (2:32 am): </b> what rhymes with turtle?  </p><p><b> EDDIE (2:33 am): </b> Bill what did I just say??? </p><p><b> STAN (2:35 am): </b> That’s it everyone bring me your phones. We’re going full lockdown. </p><p> </p><p>Four days until the album release, two songs short of the record deal, no album name, no album cover, four very panicked musicians, one anxious sound editor, one exhausted songwriter, one unflappable manager.  </p><p>“Try to combine the verses Bev has with the ones Mike wrote last week. You might get another song.” Stan announced from the center of the room, holding a variety of torn and crumbled pages in his hand. Once again, he looked more put together than the rest of them combined.  </p><p>“Will it work?” Bev asked sleepily, lifting her head from Ben’s shoulder to take the offered pages from Stan’s hand. Mike leaned over the edge of the couch to read over her shoulder. “We might be able to get something from this.” she muttered thoughtfully before yawning again. </p><p>“Richie you should play them ‘double fannypack’.” Stan continued speaking over Richie's splutters of outrage. “Next time you want to try to keep a song a secret don’t sing it in the shower.”  </p><p>Grumbling Richie reached for his guitar but he stopped when Stan held up a hand, reading off the crumpled piece of paper in his hands. From where Bill was sitting, he was surprised Stan could even read off the paper, it looked like it had been wadded up so tightly.  </p><p>“This is your handwriting.” Stan announced, shoving the paper under Bill’s nose. He blinked up at him sleepily, fighting back his own yawn as he skimmed the hurriedly scratched lyrics. Bill’s eyes widened in horror with each line he read.  </p><p>“Why would you throw this out?” Stan asked, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at Bill.  </p><p>Bill shifted nervously as everyone turned their attention to him curiously. “It’s not g-good.” he admitted, shrugging helplessly under the weight of Stan’s gaze. He hoped no one could read the real answer on his face, that the song was pretty obviously about Stan and Bill had panicked at the thought of him hearing it and thrown it away. He should have realized Stan would resort to digging their rejected songs from the trash as their desperation sank in. </p><p>“That is a decision we come to as a group.” Stan reminded him forcefully, thrusting the paper at Bill who took it with a hand that shook only slightly. Was it his imagination or did Stan brush his fingers on purpose as he let go of the paper? </p><p>“You’re playing that after Richie’s done.”   </p><p> </p><p><b> Soooo how long have you had this big ole crush on Stanny?-Richie </b> </p><p><i> You’re passing me notes? What is this third grade? -Bill </i> </p><p><b> More like biology 101 am I right?? </b> </p><p><i> I hate you. </i> </p><p><b> Maybe but you still love Stan! </b> </p><p> </p><p>Other than Richie’s not subtle at all note teasing no one brought up the fact that Bill’s song, ‘the Standpipe’ was glaringly obviously about the band’s stoic manager. Bill was unable to bring himself to look at him when he sang the song so he didn’t see if Stan had any visual reaction to it. When he was finished Stan was as unreadable as ever so Bill had no idea what he thought about the song or the fact that the band was going to use it on their album.  </p><p>Mike and Bev weren’t able to piece anything together from their two songs but ‘double fannypack’ proved to be a keeper once Eddie had rewritten parts of the chorus. One sleepless day later and the album was recorded much to the immense relief of the entire group.  </p><p>“I’m going to sleep for eight weeks.” Eddie sighed; his face pressed into Richie’s chest as they lay in a heap on the carpet. “Screw eight hours, weeks is where it's at.”  </p><p>“Rip Van Winkle had the right idea.” Richie agreed, running his hand over Eddie’s hair. </p><p>“What are your thoughts on the album cover?” Stan asked, standing above all of them with his phone already in hand to take notes.  </p><p>Bill lifted his head blearily from Richie’s other side where he’d been half asleep in their dog pile. He looked up at Stan admiringly, he didn’t even look the least bit tired. The man was like an unstoppable machine. </p><p>“Ugh Stannnnn.” Bev whined, rolling off the couch where she’d been cuddling with Ben to join the pile on the floor. “Let us rest first.”  </p><p>“You can rest when the album is done.” Stan sighed, the first sign he’d shown of annoyance at any of them in weeks.  </p><p>“Rest now.” Mike pleaded, sliding gracefully off his chair to curl up around Eddie and Bev.  </p><p>“If you don’t get up and help me this is going to be your album cover.” Stan warned them. Eddie flipped him off and the others just made noncommittal noises and waved him off. Bill cracked an eye open to see Stan holding his phone above them. Yawning Bill accepted Ben’s offered hand to pull him away from the pile, letting Stan snap picture of the four members of the Deadlights, all dead asleep on the floor.  </p><p> </p><p><b> RIP to my sleep schedule </b> @billdenbrough </p><p><i> I slept for nine blissful uninterrupted hours. Unfortunately, when I woke up, I realized I can no longer hear colors. </i> </p><p> </p><p>“I already picked your cover photo I will not pick the album’s name too.” Stan shook his head with a sigh and rose to his feet even as the band pleaded with him to stay.  </p><p>Bill watched from the corner with amusement, his part in the album was over and he was only still at the house because Richie had promised to buy them all a copious amount of alcohol when everything had been sent to the label.  </p><p>“Stan we can’t pick without our braincell!” Richie pleaded, looking up at Stan with big puppy dog eyes that had gotten Bill into more trouble than he could keep track of in college. </p><p>Stan proved to have better self-control than Bill because he only shook his head, turning to go out the door without another word. The band all called out to him and Bill suddenly gave into his impulses and headed after Stan, grabbing his stolen cardigan on his way out the door and pointedly ignoring Richie’s wolf whistle.  </p><p>Bill shoved his shoes on on the front porch, casting a wild look around before he spotted Stan heading to the subway station and he raced after him. Richie was already going to give him so much shit for chasing after Stan he might as well make it worth it.  </p><p>No doubt hearing his graceless running Stan stopped at the steps to the subway, lingering until Bill caught up with him. For a moment neither of them said anything as Bill fought to catch his breath (this album hadn’t just wrecked his sleep schedule, he was so out of shape now) and Stan regarded him curiously. After a moment Stan nodded for him to come with him and Bill followed him down into the subway his heart racing from far more than his short run.  </p><p> </p><p><b> New music tomorrow! </b> @thedeadlightsmusic </p><p><i> Our first full length album, ‘Dam it!’ releases midnight PST! </i> </p><p><b> Booty shorts with ‘I &lt;3 EK’ written on the ass </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i> for the record i wanted to call it ‘kiss my ass stan urine’ but i was outvoted </i> </p><p><b> ‘Dam it!’ out tomorrow!!! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> Gee I can’t imagine why. </i> </p><p>RT @bigdicktozier </p><p> </p><p>Bill wasn’t the least bit surprised when they emerged from the subway to see Prospect Park stretched out in front of them. Stan stopped on the way into the park to purchase them both coffees and Bill was surprised to realize that it was not early afternoon like he’d thought but actually late morning. He wondered for a moment if he would ever manage to get his sleep schedule back on track but then Stan was pressing the cup into his hands and Bill definitely did not imagine the way his hand lingered against Bill’s for a moment. </p><p>Bill had become pretty familiar with the park and its avian inhabitants over the past few weeks, or at least so he’d thought until he’d gone there with Stan. Stan pointed out birds that Bill hadn’t even noticed before they were tucked so far up in the trees. He knew the name of every bird and seemed to know more facts than an encyclopedia on each one. Bill knew that he had only gotten into birdwatching to have something to talk about with Stan but he got so adorably excited when talking about the Bobolink that Bill found himself nodding along in excitement, and not all of it was because of how cute Stan looked when he was animated. Part of it was simply due to the bird itself. Bill had never considered himself a bird person so this new revelation was interesting to say the least. </p><p>As they walked their arms kept bumping into each other and Bill felt Stan’s fingers brush against his. He assumed it was an accident since Stan didn’t stop his discussion about the hunting habits of red-tailed hawks. But then a few minutes later Bill felt Stan’s finger graze his again and before he could let either of them overthink it Bill slipped his hand into Stan’s, threading their fingers together and pretending to be very fascinated by his coffee.  </p><p>Stan continued speaking, a momentary hitch in his voice and a gentle squeeze of Bill’s hand the only sign that anything had changed in their walk. They walked around the lake twice more, holding hands the whole time until all of their sleepless nights (and days) started to catch up with them. Bill led Stan over to his favorite bench (it was where he’d been sitting the day Stan had followed him on twitter) and as they sat down he decided to keep his brave train going. He let go of Stan’s hand to cautiously place his arm around his shoulder, barely restraining himself from jumping up in glee when Stan leaned against him.  </p><p>“Bill?” Stan asked after such a long pause that Bill had almost fallen asleep he was so comfortable. </p><p>“Yeah?” Bill asked softly, afraid that if he spoke too loudly, he would shatter the peace he was feeling. </p><p>“Why did you start getting into birds?” Stan asked curiously, pulling away from Bill enough so that he could turn and meet his eyes. </p><p>Bill laughed nervously. Although since Stan was still currently leaning half against him Bill supposed he didn’t need to feel too nervous. “Because you light up when you s-see birds. You s-smile when you talk about them.” Bill shrugged helplessly as he admitted, “I want to make you smile all the time.”  </p><p>He could feel a blush racing its way up his face but before he could feel too embarrassed by his confession Stan was gripping Bill by the lapels of his own cardigan and pulling him forward until their lips met.  </p><p> </p><p><b> Stanley Uris </b> @stanuris </p><p><i> If a person doesn’t take up birdwatching as a way to charm you are they really even worth it? </i> </p><p><b> Am I a rockstar yet? </b> @badassbev </p><p><i> Awwww, take notes kids. Weirdly specific notes. </i> </p><p>RT @stanuris </p><p><b> Ben Hanscom </b> @justbennobutton </p><p><i> Now all of </i> @billdenbrough <i> bird pictures make sense! </i> </p><p>RT @stanuris </p><p><b> Mike Hanlon </b> @magicalmike </p><p><i> Romance at its finest. Happy for you both! </i> </p><p>RT @stanuris </p><p><b> ‘Dam it!’ out tomorrow!!! </b> @eddiekasprak </p><p><i> Shared interests is how you woo someone @bigdicktozier not ‘I fucked your mom’ jokes. </i> </p><p>RT @stanuris </p><p><b> Booty shorts with ‘I &lt;3 EK’ written on the ass </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i> Funny those jokes still worked on you. </i> </p><p>RT @eddiekasprak </p><p><b> Booty shorts with ‘I &lt;3 EK’ written on the ass </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p>@billdenbrough <i> Big Bill’s got game! </i> </p><p>RT @stanuris </p><p><b> call me Georgie and die </b> @denofgeorge </p><p><i> Yeah so much game he texted his little brother for dating advice disguised as a google search </i> </p><p>RT @bigdicktozier </p><p><b> Professional(ha!) writer/amateur birdwatcher </b> @billdenbrough </p><p><i> Why do you always have to @ me like that George?? </i> </p><p>RT @denofgeorge </p><p><b> Stanley Uris </b> @stanuris </p><p>@billdenbrough <i> I propose we move this off of twitter. </i> </p><p><b> Professional(ha!) writer/amateur birdwatcher </b> @billdenbrough </p><p>@stanuris <i> Thought you’d never ask. </i> </p><p><b> Booty shorts with ‘I &lt;3 EK’ written on the ass </b> @bigdicktozier </p><p><i>Proposing already </i> @stanuris? <i> Should have known you move fast! </i></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find me on tumblr @lumierelalune</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>